if it were our last night
by Meihi.Hekiwarai
Summary: Sebastian has to go on a long job and he isn't sure he'll make it back alive. He spends the night with Jim. Mormor, Jim Moriarty/Sebastian Moran. Oneshot, shonen ai, fluff - well, as much fluff as you can have in this pairing. So not much, actually.


Sebastian is just finishing making dinner when he hears his name being called from the living room. He really isn't surprised; he's been hearing various noises and grumbling coming from where Jim is seated on the couch for the past hour or so. He doesn't know exactly what's going on, only that Jim's speaking with a client of some sort, and it really isn't any of his business to get involved; or at least, it wasn't. Now, however, he sets aside the braised pork loin he was cooking (Jim probably wouldn't have eaten it anyway, so it doesn't matter if it gets cold) and goes to stand in front of the other man.

"Yeah?" He grunts.

Jim doesn't look up from where he's frowning at the screen, but Sebastian learned his lesson about interrupting the last time and he isn't keen to repeat the experience so he waits patiently to be acknowledged; after a good minute or two, his boss speaks again.

"You've got a job tonight, Sebby." And then, glancing up and reading Sebastian's protest in the faint thinning of his lips and the gleam in his eyes, the man continues, "I know it was supposed to be your night off. Don't argue with me, pet, I'm not in a terribly lenient mood. Unfortunately all of my other snipers are too completely incompetent to be able to do this job, so you're going to be gone for a few weeks; Turkey. The Yilmaz issue turned into a bloody wreck." Jim pauses, turns off the computer and then grins up at him, the smirk stretching slow and lazy across his face. "Be a good boy and clean up this mess for Daddy nice and quick, will you? You know how much I hate messes. Maybe if you do a very, very good job I'll give you some time off afterwards. You might even earn a little reward for being so obedient."

It's pretty clear what Jim means from the look on his face and the way his eyes trail down over Sebastian's body, blatantly lingering in certain areas. Sebastian shivers, feeling the blood In his body immediately start rushing south in preparation, but he takes a deep breath and ignores it – this isn't the time for those kind of thoughts. Yilmaz was a highly trained and very efficient assassin, known by few and seen by none. Someone had come to Jim asking to get rid of the man, of course; people always came to Jim to fix their problems. The job had been a royal fuck-up from the beginning, not at all worth the risk, the time or the effort, he'd thought. The mission he was now being sent on would be very dangerous, especially if Yilmaz had caught wind of them. He needs to start planning now, get all the details from Jim before he gets distracted.

"What can you tell me, then?" Sebastian asks quietly, accepting the order without question. Jim's smile fades away into a pout; obviously he's not pleased with the change of focus. "I can tell you the location, and I can give you a list of names. That should be all you need. Just kill everyone on the list and come home," the man huffs. Sebastian sighs. His boss apparently has no idea or doesn't care about just how close of a call this is going to wind up being, and with this little information he's fairly sure he won't be able to make it back alive. He supposes he should take it at face value as a compliment, that Jim has this much faith in him versus the rest of his employees.

"Fine," he agrees, before continuing, "Do you want dinner, or should I just put it in the fridge? And before you say anything no I'm bloody well not going to just bin it, that was a lot of effort. If I put it in the fridge you had better well eat it while I'm gone, that way I'll know you ate a little at least. Trust me, I'm going to check." The smug smirk is back on Moriarty's face again as he nods, and he looks blatantly amused at the authoritative tone Sebastian's taking. He's decided to play along for now. "Yes, Colonel," he murmurs. "I'll be good and let you feed me. I'll even eat the leftovers later, if you want to put them in the refrigerator."

(~TIME SKIP IN WHICH YOU CAN ASSUME THERE IS VIOLENT SEXY SMUT THAT I HAVEN'T WRITTEN YET YAY~)

Several hours later, Sebastian is lying in bed next to a quiet, content Jim. He takes a few minutes to look over and study his boss for what he, personally, thinks will most likely be the last time; his eyes trail slowly over the pale expanse of the man's body, over those long, thin legs and the smooth stomach up to his face, the thin mouth silently forming half-shaped thoughts and ideas and prayers, and the dark, vacant eyes that are currently half-lidded and staring up at the ceiling. He finds himself smiling faintly, a flicker of something that was most definitely not fondness causing something in his chest to flutter briefly before he shakes his head to get rid of it. Jim glances over and snorts, eyes crinkling around the edges in a knowing, amused look. He keeps watching Sebastian, almost as if he's waiting for something.

Sebastian meets his gaze, trying to figure out what the other man wants as he lets his hands trail absently over the bite marks and cuts on his own body, but it isn't until he reaches up to fiddle with the dog tags still hanging around his neck that he figures it out; there's the slightest change in Jim's expression, just a hint of raised eyebrows and expectation, and upon noticing the difference Sebastian's immediately pulling them off and holding them out. "I don't think you want me being identified somehow while I'm on this job. Mind holding on to these for me, boss?" He asks, giving a weak excuse to hand them over even though he knows that it's what Jim wants.

Jim's eyebrows turn down and his mouth opens into a slight 'o' shape, creating a completely fake look of surprise; Sebastian just rolls his eyes. "Why Tiger, for me? How sweet of you…" Jim purrs, leaning up slightly so that Sebastian can slip them around his neck. Sebastian just takes a moment to stare at him again, admiring the way the dog tags rest against the man's pale, pale chest, right over where the heart would be, if either of them had one. He's glad that if he doesn't come back then the tags will be in good hands, at least, and he doesn't analyze why he wants Jim of all people to have them. He just gets in a nice long look before leaning down for a deep, thorough, mind-blowing kiss, after which he settles down next to his boss to sleep. He has to pack in the morning, after all, and he's probably not going to get much rest until he gets home. If he gets home. If not, well, he's alright with that.


End file.
